


Two Inches to the Left

by andimeantittosting (Saylee)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Fix-It, Free Will and Love Win, Happy Ending, M/M, Not So Subtle Shade, Spoilers, Temporary Character Death, We Get the Final Word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27717608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saylee/pseuds/andimeantittosting
Summary: Something tells Dean to stop by that bridge, so he does. The last thing he's expecting is for a pair of Vespas to pull up and Becky Rosen to tell him that he's still in Chuck's story. Finally, it's time to write his own.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 36
Kudos: 242
Collections: SPN Finale "Destiel is CANON" Collection





	Two Inches to the Left

**Author's Note:**

> Have another coda, in which fans save the day. Because we get to decide what the last word is. Love you all.
> 
> Many thanks go to the wonderful [jscribbles ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jscribbles/pseuds/jscribbles) for beta reading and suggesting the title <3 <3 <3

Dean drives. It takes five minutes and it takes forever. Time is weird in Heaven.

Something tells him to stop at that bridge, so he does. He's not sure what he's expecting. Sam, maybe, at the end of what was hopefully a long and happy life. Cas—surely he must know Dean is up here by now. Dean’s a bit nervous to know what Cas thinks of him getting himself dead so soon after his sacrifice, but at least here in Heaven he'll finally have the space and the time to speak his truth back.

The last thing he's expecting is a pair of Vespas in mint green and sunshine yellow to speed up and pull to a stop twenty feet from him. He blinks.

The rider of the mint Vespa dismounts first, pulling off their helmet and shaking out a head of honey-blonde hair—a move that looks like it's been copied from the movies.

"Dean," she calls, "you're still in Chuck's story."

Dean blinks again, hard. " _Becky_?"

"Don't worry, Dean" says the second rider, voice slightly muffled as she ducks her head to remove her own helmet, revealing a jaunty red bob. "She's cool now." 

Charlie—the original Charlie—grins sunnily up into his stunned face. "'Sup, Dean?"

He's stunned, but not too stunned to gather her into a bone-crushing hug. "Hey, kiddo." There's a sniffle in his voice and he doesn't try to hide it. "I missed you."

Becky waits politely until Dean releases Charlie and doesn't go in for a hug of her own. Seems she's learned boundaries are a thing, which is nice.

"So”—She clears her throat—“first of all, sorry about the whole kidnapping Sam and forcing him to marry me thing. I've had a lot of therapy since then."

"Also," Charlie chimes in, "it turns out Chuck literally made her do it."

"I can't believe my shitty ex was God." Becky makes a face and Charlie gives her a commiserating pat on the shoulder.

"So, uh, this is very interesting and all," Dean says, "but care to catch me up? Chuck's done. Jack took his powers."

"We've got to back up a bit first." Charlie gestures for Becky to go ahead. "Becky?"

"Right," says Becky, with a rueful look. "A few months back, Chuck showed up at my house. My husband and kids were away camping. I wanted to send him away, but he said he had nowhere else to go. I wish I hadn't let him in. Anyway, he said he was having trouble with his writing, and I tried to encourage him. A mistake, obviously."

Dean snorts in agreement.

"He just made himself at home, took over my laptop, and wrote something right then and there." She pauses, mouth pressing into a thin line. "Then he asked me what I thought."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "I take it that it was shit."

"It was," Becky confirms, "but I tried to tell him it was great, hoping he'd leave. He kept pushing me for my real opinion until I finally gave it to him. He didn't like that. He sat down and wrote something new...an ending. It was _awful:_ dark, depressing, hopeless. And I told him so! Then my family came home, and he"—her voice catches—"he made them disappear. H-He got in my face and snapped his fingers, and I was—I was dead. In Heaven. And then Charlie came to find me."

"You told me once that your friend Ash had hacked Heaven," Charlie says. "So I knew it could be done. The first thing I did when I ended up here—"

" _Charlie_ , I—" says Dean, the guilt over her loss never truly gone.

"You have nothing to apologize for," she cuts him off firmly. “I was the victim of bad writing. Not your fault. The first thing I did when I got here was the figure out how to find Ash. Once I did, we started collaborating. One of the things we did was to set up an alert system. Anything unusual, premature deaths, people from yours and Sam's life; when they show up here, we investigate. When I found Becky and she told me what had happened with Chuck, a lot of things fell into place."

"We've been keeping an eye on things from here," Becky says, "trying to find a way to help out. But Chuck had things locked up tight. It changed when you beat him, when Jack took over. Initially, we thought that was it, but then things just started to...not add up."

"You're saying Chuck's still controlling me?" Dean asks. "How?"

"Not directly," Charlie says, which is some sort of consolation. "We think he built in some sort of failsafe, a way to force his ending, something to trigger in the event of his defeat."

"So, what tipped you off?" Dean asks. "What makes you think this is his story?"

"Well," says Becky. "It's a little thin, isn't it? The kind of thing that only a network exec or Chuck would think is good. Where's the _growth_? Where's the _heart_? Where's _Cas!_? He barely got a mention. And then _Dean Winchester_ was killed by a nail?"

"It was rebar," Dean protests. At least rebar sounds a little more badass than a nail.

"Why would someone put a piece of rebar sticking out of a barn at lung height?" Charlie has a point. "And that's even leaving aside the waste of a montage Sam is living through. Have a look." 

She pulls a tablet out of…somewhere? The air, maybe—Heaven is weird. She taps at it and passes it to him, and suddenly, Dean is watching an older version of his brother interacting with what seems to be his son, a blurry woman in the background.

"What the hell?" he says.

"I know, right?" says Charlie.

"Even if Chuck hadn't zapped my family," says Becky, "I don't think I can ever forgive him for what he did to Sam's beautiful hair."

She's right. It's awful.

"So what do we do?" Dean asks. "How do we get free of Chuck's story?

"Well"—Charlie grins—"have you ever heard of Roland Barthes?"

"You telling me we need to kill Chuck after all?"

"Not kill," Charlie says. "Just make his story irrelevant, for once and for all."

"And, uh"—Dean clears his throat—"how do I do that?"

Charlie takes her tablet back, taps a few more times and then passes it back to him, the screen a white, blank page, a cursor blinking at the top left. A keyboard takes up the bottom of the screen. "You write your own."

Dean does. 

He starts by writing Becky's family back, and then Becky herself. She fades from view with a grateful smile and a "Thank you."

Next, Dean turns to Charlie. "How about it? Heaven or Earth?"

"Earth, please," she says. "I can continue my work here when I die of old age. In the meantime, I have fandoms to catch up on."

"You should watch the new She-Ra," Dean advises. "I think you'll like it."

"Media recommendation noted." Charlie leans in for another hug. "Alright, write me back. I'll look you up when you get home."

She steps away, and Dean does as she asked, watching her fade from Heaven to reappear on Earth.

He writes again, not overstepping anyone's free will, but granting them the knowledge and the power to make the choice for themselves. Some of his loved ones, prematurely sacrificed to Chuck's story, will choose to stay here in Jack's new, free Heaven. Others will choose to get back what was taken from them.

Next he writes a path back to earth—an invitation—for a certain angel, if he wants to take it. Dean hopes he will. He has something to say.

The last thing Dean does is write himself two inches to the left.

*****

This time, the rebar misses anything vital, piercing through his shoulder instead, but it still hurts like a son of a bitch going in. Dean grits his teeth against the pain.

This time, when Sam suggests calling for help, Dean agrees. He's done with death wishes. He sure is glad he's got his tetanus shot.

Sam's fumbling for his phone, more upset than Dean, who already knows how much worse this could have been, when one of the lights in the barn bursts in a shadow of sparks. Another light bursts, and the doors of the barn slam open, framing the figure between them like massive, crumbling wings. 

"Cas," gasps Sam, but Dean's mouth just tips up into a smile, pain be damned.

"Hey there, Cas. Good of you to drop in."

" _Dean_." Cas strides towards him, trench coat flapping around his legs, looking nothing like the terrifying, alien being he had once been, but rather like a man, a living man with a beating heart and a soul that outweighs his grace, a man with worry written across his face.

"Dean," he says again when he gets close, Sam instinctually stepping aside to let them face each other. "It's barely been two weeks since I prevented Billie from reaping you. Please, try to be more careful." He doesn't quite meet Dean's eye, his touch business-like as he examines Dean's injury.

He's embarrassed, Dean thinks.

He doesn't need to be.

"Well, I would be more careful"—It's hard to keep his tone light when there's a spike through his shoulder, but Dean makes a valiant effort—"but I needed some way to tempt you back down to Earth."

Cas frowns at him and Dean decides to let his actions talk, rather than his words. Ignoring his pain, he grabs a handful of Cas's coat in his good hand and hauls him in, close enough to kiss.

Cas makes a surprised noise into his mouth and Dean grins. The room swims around him slightly.

"Whoa," he says, reluctantly easing Cas back. He lets his head fall back against the wooden column. "I don't know if kissing you is just that awesome or if it's the blood loss, but I think I could use a little assist here."

The look Cas gives him is both chiding and fond. With careful hands he helps lift Dean clear of the rebar spike, Dean hissing in a breath through his teeth at the white, hot sensation as he comes free. He slumps forward into Cas's arms with a half-delirious murmur of, "My hero."

Cas lowers him down to the ground, half-cradling Dean in his arms. He cups Dean's face in that intimate way he only uses when healing Dean, and relief flows immediately out of his hand. Dean feels infection burning out, bone rebuilding, muscle and sinew and skin knitting back together, pain becoming a distant memory. 

But as Cas heals him, something else begins to happen; a white glow starts soft beneath Cas's fingers, then spreads through the rest of his body until Cas is suffused in white light, his eyes lighting up like stars.

"Cas!" Dean can't be losing him, not again, not again, not like this.

But then the glow fades and Cas is still there, smiling serenely down at Dean, still cupping his cheek.

"The last of my grace," he explains, with no trace of bitterness or wistfulness. "I'm human now. I hope that, after that kiss, my feelings don't make it too awkward to be allowed to stay with you."

Dean blinks up at him. "You fucker," he declares. "Never scare me like that again. Of course you can stay. Hell, you'd better stay. I have things to say to you, too, and this time you're going to stick around and listen."

Cas has this way of smiling with his eyes that makes Dean feel like his heart is doing a tap dance. "Of course, Dean."

"Good," says Dean, pushing his way to his feet and dusting himself off. He leans down to offer a hand to Cas. "First of all, I love you too, you asshole."

At that, Cas gawps at him, so Dean shuts his mouth with a kiss. This time, when he pulls back, he tosses over his shoulder, "What are you looking at, Sammy? Don't you know love is beautiful?"

Sam's mouth twitches upwards. "Yeah, I do. C'mon, let's go help those kids, and then let's get home. I promised Eileen I'd Skype tonight if I could."

 _Home._ It's never sounded better.

*****

True to her word, Charlie stops by the bunker a few days later. It's only a little awkward, because the other Charlie is there, along with Stevie, on an actual social call, no hunts in sight. Soon, however, the two Charlie's are fast friends, and Dean begins to fear for the world with these two genius hackers paired up. Not to mention Charlie still in contact with Ash up in Heaven. 

Stevie shoots him a commiserating look.

Dean cooks enough for an army (or maybe a state fair) and they all crowd into the Dean Cave—now equipped with a couch—to catch Charlie up on all the pop culture she's missed in the past five years. Dean keeps his arm slung around Cas the entire time, and Charlie shoots him a look that's brimming with pride.

"I knew you thought he was dreamy," she stage-whispers, and Dean bounces a piece of popcorn off her forehead.

A few days later, a package arrives with an envelope attached. The letter is from Becky, assuring him that everything seems to be back to normal—or better. It contains a photo of Becky and her family, all of them looking happy and full of affection for each other. 

_"Just one thing you helped to save,"_ she writes.

 _"I'm not sure what you'll think of the other thing,"_ she adds, _"but I wanted you to know the impact your love with Cas has had on so many people."_

Curious, Dean unwraps the package to find a book, emblazoned with the title, "A More Profound Bond." Inside, it is full of artwork, interpretations of him and Cas by readers of Chuck's work. There are stories, too, though he's not ready to read them right now, these other lives he could have lived. Still, he's deeply touched.

 _"Remember,"_ Becky's letter concludes. _"Chuck isn't writing your story anymore. It's yours to do what you want with."_

*****

Later, Cas catches Dean in bed with the book, thumbing through the pages, not quite settling anywhere.

"What's that?" he asks.

"It's a book," Dean says, "about gay love piercing through the veil of death to save the day."

Cas looks bewildered, but he allows Dean to set the book aside and tug him down, kissing him until no words are needed, because the only word is joy.


End file.
